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raiamods ([personal profile] raiamods) wrote in [community profile] raiamemes2021-04-30 08:56 pm
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TDM 001


TEST DRIVE MEME 001 ❀
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character nudity, violence, trypophobia (images) as well as light mentions of gore.

Please note: FOR THE FIRST 24 HOURS AFTER 'HATCHING', CHARACTERS WILL FEEL WEAK AND ANY POWERS THEY HAVE WILL NOT WORK.

Test drive meme threads can be considered game canon for players who are later accepted and wish to keep their CR. The rescue mission prompt will be a TDM-exclusive, but the other prompts that you see here will also appear on our first game log. There will, of course, be more going on that week.

Please reserve questions about consequences for altering or meaningfully investigating the setting for the first log of the game, where we will have a Mod Questions thread at the top of the log. On this test drive meme, please reserve this thread for clarification and setting questions.

On the first day of reserves (May 10th), only players who participate in the TDM will be allowed to reserve. You must link an AC-length thread from the TDM for early access. Starting on the 11th, any prospective player may submit a reserve. Our hope is that this will avoid overwhelming our reserves.

❀ HATCHING


Congrats, you've woken up in an egg. I'm sure this is exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday, right? There's no time to get curious and check out the other egg sacs. By the time you've fought your way out of the membranous sac, spilled electric blue goop everywhere, wiped it out of your eyes and sundry other orifices to get your bearings, you have a spear (or a gun) leveled at your face, throat, or other vital organs. Even if you might be inclined to fight, you can barely lift your arms to protest being grabbed and dragged off. Before you can even get a word in edgewise, you've been thrown into a holding cell.

Characters will not have a chance to retrieve their items at the time of the first hatching, and may not even know there is anything left in the remaining eggs.

The holding cell stinks of something sour and acidic, like rotted citrus, but you are not alone. Several other detainees sit in similar squalid confusion, dressed strangely and equally gooey. Time to make nice, ask questions... figure out what the hell is going on, and maybe do something about all that slime?

Over the next few days, a few things become clear. Despite the alien greeting, your captors speak a language that you understand, and the unpleasant circumstances are revealed to be a matter of necessity, not choice. Supplies are low, but they ensure that the new arrivals' time imprisoned is as painless as can be — they offer hot communal showers of less than three minutes, some strange starchy meal-replacement, and medical treatment to those in need. You might strike up a conversation with your new best friend in the shower over a low soap dispenser or when you realize you might need to share towels.

The cost of these luxuries comes in the form of touch-and-go interrogation by the security officers keeping tabs on the cells and supervising the shower time.

A few notes:
☆ Your character may get pulled away for interrogation at some point. No torture, no drugs; just questioning.

☆ Locals will be stopping by outside the freestanding holding cells to ogle or ask questions. Are you really going to be mean to that little kid staring at you with wide eyes?

☆ Characters will be let out for bio breaks. No one has to pee in a bucket, that's just inhumane!

☆ Attempts to escape will probably get you tasered. The mods will not facilitate escape-plots/etc on test drive memes. However: if you app and are accepted you are more than welcome to chat with us about the possibility of having escaped or attempted it.

❀ EXPLORE THE BASECAMP

On the heels of a little benign interrogation, a medical inspection, and a stern talking to by Captain Childe, the survivors at Basecamp Leviathan determine one thing: you don't appear to be an active threat.

Released from the detention center after three days, you are given the run-down by the locals — you're on a planet called Ethyraia, and the people around you are survivors of the catastrophic crash of the UCSS Adamant several years prior. You, in fact, showed up on the third anniversary of the crash. Weird coincidence, huh?

You're being allowed to mingle with the others. The first order of the day is having a proper meal at the mess hall — some of the Adamant's survivors will be friendlier than others. They've been stranded here for years, remember? Some of them will be so desperate to talk to someone who has news of other places, and some will be giving you the cold shoulder.

You'll be fed the same as the rest of them. A plastic plate of crumbled protein of unidentifiable origin and gravy over rice with a single wilted stalk of broccoli and a cup of the worst coffee you've ever had. Maybe somebody bumps into you and spills said coffee, maybe you make it all the way to one of the long tables set out for communal eating.

Time to strike up a chat with your neighbor — maybe ask them to pass the salt?

(What do you mean, there's no salt!?)

After a meal — it's hard to say which one you'd call it, since the whole crew is on rotating schedules — you may decide to wander the basecamp. Folks in every department could use a hand. Those willing to help out may get friendlier reception than those who play the tourist. For more info on what else you might find, check out the LOCATIONS page.

During this time, characters will be able to return to the Central Chrysalis where they hatched. While there are no clues as to how they got there, they might find items — their own, or someone else's. Everyone is strapped for supplies, but try not to snatch up anything that isn't yours. The security officers don't look kindly on people chasing one other down the hall, trying to get back their dirty magazines.

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to help out anywhere. Every little bit of assistance you offer to the locals will raise their estimation of you. You could easily help clean dishes after the meal, help fix leaky piping or repair hammocks. You could stop by the aid station and assist with the wounded. You'll be watched closely and some of the survivors will be warier than others, but most will appreciate the opportunity to have a 'break'.

☆ If your character leaves the basecamp and wanders outside the Leviathan, they may begin to notice that what they perhaps took as a giant cave is actually an enormous dragon. Everything they see that seems 'human made' will look varying levels of worn down, patched, repaired and patched again. This is not a place of prosperity and happiness. Many people are recently injured, or have new scars or missing limbs.

☆ PCs will be warned about going beyond the shade of the dragon's wings. For the sake of the test drive mods will not be facilitating plots that deal with characters going further; we ask that players with an interest in exploring this wait until the game is fully open.

❀ RESCUE MISSION

"There's no time to waste," the woman says breathlessly as she grabs your arm. She pulls you to an augmented reality sand table and you will find yourself standing alongside some of the others you may recognize as having 'hatched' with you. There are murmurs by the Adamant's survivors as they pour over data. Maybe you remember Captain Childe from the stern interrogation she gave you a few days ago, but in any case but she's standing at the edge of the sand table looking at the distance scaled between the enormous huddle of HUD badges — the Adamant's survivors — and a tiny pocket of pulsing green some fifteen kilometers away.

"They knew better," Captain Childe says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "They should have been back hours ago."

"Fucking scientists," says a man with a faintly French accent. He is scarred and battle-worn, and looks properly pissed off. He's also sporting several fresh injuries, one of which seems to have warranted the use of a crutch. "They'd lose their heads if they weren't attached. Let them wait out the storm."

"No," the captain says. "They're too close to the Rat Nest. We don't need a repeat of —" she trails off, as if seeing you for the first time. She looks you up and down, and then: "You've been told by now that everyone here has to pitch in. If you know how to fight, be ready in ten minutes. You're our rescue squad." She turns and walks out, and there's an awkward moment where everyone present is looking at you to make a choice.

Ten minutes really isn't a lot of time to get ready to walk into danger. Or maybe you aren't a fighter. Maybe you just don't care. But either way, there are people looking to you. To see how you'll react. To see what you'll do. To see if you belong.

What'll it be, hatchling? Fight or flight? Maybe you ought to start coming up with a plan.

FIELD WORK

There's a cadre of scientists cut off by acid rain. From their last transmission, they were driven into the Rat Warrens — and you've been tasked with rescuing them. Too many members of the Security Team are themselves injured, and none of the remaining ones have experience leading a fire team. Let's hope you do — or at least that you can fake it.

Maybe you've hand-picked your team. Maybe you're just stuck with whoever else was closest. Either way, your companions are some of the people you might recognize as fellow 'hatchlings'. If you know them already — good, you've got a head start on what they might be capable of out in the field, and you can chat about the little things. You know, like the weather. Acid rain, gotta love it.

Either way. You're given few small slabs of surprisingly lightweight alloy that has a sheet of — is that hide from the Leviathan? — stretched across them, to divide up amongst your team. "Helps with the rain," Ensign Porter says, trying to sound cheerful despite the grim set to his jaw. "Just come back in one piece. I kinda feel responsible for you guys, you know?"

Before you know it, you're outfitted for the trip. Weapons (if you didn't have your own) and maybe some medical supplies, handed over with a grimace by Doc Sunya.

So then it's just you, your tiny team and a fifteen kilometer hike. Oh, and the acid rain. Luckily, the shields seem to be keeping it off, but it's hard to hear anything over the impact of the drops. Anyone want to play I never?

Or maybe you think you should make a break for it. This is your first time being outside the Leviathan unsupervised. You've got supplies, and other people with as little to lose here as you do. Maybe you should talk.

THE RAT WARREN

You've made it to the last transmitted location of the scientists. What you find doesn't bode well — one of them seemed to have an arm torn off — at least, you think it's an arm — the way it's been disintegrated by the rain makes it hard to tell.

One thing's certain, though. There are bloodstains leading into the nearby maw of a hole in the ground. There's a putrid odor wafting from it, and the sound of frantic scrabbling.

You have an idea of what might be down there. 'Giant rats with tentacles', Porter had said. Don't let the tentacles grab you, they leave chemical burns that usually result in amputation if they can't be treated immediately. But there's a chance the scientists are still alive, and you need to make your choice.

If you and your small team venture down into the darkness, what happens next is up to you. You'll be encountering hoards of these monsters. The scientists are still alive, but will they stay that way? And more importantly, can you get them back to the Leviathan in one piece?

PCs versus the local fauna, round one, FIGHT!

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to put player characters 'in charge' of the planning/logistics phase. If another PC tags into your thread, you and that player can decide which PC will be 'leading the charge'.

☆ Your character will have: a mini-railgun, a spear (if they don't have their items/weapons from home), a first-aid kit, the acid rain shields, ration bars (that are essentially condensed protein bars — they do not taste good) and one of the smartwatches, which will have a mini holographic HUD displayable on its interface. If your character is the sort to request other things, feel free to assume they received them (within reason — please remember that resource scarcity is the name of the game — feel free to be creative here!).

☆ There are fifteen kilometers to cover. If your character has an ability like superspeed/etc, please keep in mind it will work, but you also have your allies to consider. Normal walking time over this distance, given the difficulty of the environment (steep hills, acid rain, unknown territory, etc) would translate to several hours to an average person.

☆ Feel free to use the NPC scientists however you'd like. If you want your character to find some dead, you can. If you'd prefer they be rescued, that is also acceptable. These are essentially 'your' NPCs that you are using to facilitate the story at this point — the sky is the metaphoric limit!

❀ BOOZE

A week. You've been here for a week.

By now, you might have tried to venture out of Basecamp Leviathan and experienced firsthand the acid rains that the security officers warned you about. Or you might be teaching the kids at the schoolyard how to gamble. In any event, Thorkil seems to take pity on his disoriented new friends and taps his distillery for a little help.

Invitation passes by word of mouth to meet at the memorial wall. Moonshine of questionable quality is passed around in tin cups — hope no one's afraid of germs — as Thorkil explains the great relief it is to be gaining people instead of losing them. This settlement isn't big, and they aren't overburdened with hope or supplies, but there's been a lot of loss in the past three years. Some people might be willing to look at the arrival of these newcomers as a sign that things are turning around.

Bottoms up, hatchlings, and ... Happy Birthday?

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to turn this into an impromptu party. Maybe you're celebrating getting all the scientists back alive! Maybe it's something like a wake to remember them in the sad event of their passing. Either way, many of the engineers and other NPCs may join you in this moonlight drinking session, as well as whatever PCs you tag out to or are tagged by.)

❀ OBLIGATORY NETWORK


Welcome people of all kinds to Basecamp Leviathan! I'd give you a hand moving in except...

I have no hands.
Because I'm an AI.
Get it?
It's a joke.

My name is Cartagena. But anyway, this isn't about me or the Adamant for once. This is about all of you. So if you would kindly fill out the following questionnaire to get to know each other; it would also be very helpful for my systems.

NOTE: Participation is MANDATORY.

That was another joke. It's all voluntary. You people and your free will.

1. What is your name?
2. Where are you from?
3. What's your favorite smell? Please describe it as you would to a person without a nose. Because I do not have a nose.
4. If you could be any animal in any world, what would you be?
5. How old are you?
6. Did you enjoy this questionnaire?

Thank you for your participation! Please enjoy the rest of your stay here at Basecamp Leviathan.


cryptoherpetology: (Default)

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-14 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
"If literally anything about this is something you've done before at all, it'd be really great to hear about that. What part of this is so nostalgic for you?"

Right now for Alex, the only familiar thing about any of this is that he's been put in a place to be somewhat useful when lives are on the line by putting his own life on the line. If they were lucky, his field experience with not only dangerous animals, but biohazardous pack-hunters specifically might save a life (or at least a limb) or two. Even the possibility of that luck had been enough for him to sign up for this, armed with the small handful of his own weapons he'd found in the chrysalis chamber and as much knowledge about the rats as he could learn in the brief time they'd been given to prepare for the mission. He'd always been a quick study, and he's hoping his run of being quick enough when it really mattered is going to hold up.
fortyforged: (memory slipped)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-14 06:52 am (UTC)(link)
It seems to startle the Exo out of his thoughts, a question that takes form through the steady patter and hiss of rain beyond them. His optics refocus, his gaze a soft glow of blue matched by the light that spills out of his throat when he opens his mouth to speak. Even then it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts back together, to recall what had been asked before he'd let his mind drift.

"Sorry," he ends up saying, anticipation of an apology he owed for possibly getting someone's hopes up. "Just been a while since I've been out anywhere, I think." He realizes that's probably not the most reassuring thing to admit under their present circumstances. There'd been a mission not too long ago, maybe. Or maybe it has. Days since the end of the Red War had blurred. Things had...happened. His optics shutter slightly as he thinks, but it's like a bunch of slippery threads he just can't keep a grasp of.
cryptoherpetology: (014)

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-15 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
Unconsciously, Alex adjusts his glasses as he thinks about what that could imply. It could mean he'd lived aboard the sort of large space ship the Adamant had been, where outside meant the vacuum of space- or it could mean something less pleasant.

"Was that by choice?" He drops the tone of jovial snark to something not quite somber, but at least concerned. He doesn't have any reason to add suspicion to the mix just yet- at least not beyond his usual level of suspicion for any stranger. But even if he's not dangerous, he's sure lots of worlds have lots of not-dangerous people in prisons of one sort or another.
fortyforged: (order's ready)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-15 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Yep," the old Exo replies. "Got a place in the City. It's home. People know where to find me. Don't got nowhere else to be, and that suits me just fine." He honestly doesn't know what he'd be doing otherwise. That does remind him that further explanation might be due.

"Work as a gunsmith. I deal with weapons. Upgrades, upkeep, custom designs." He shrugs, managing not to get ahead of himself. New surroundings, new people. Different audience. Maybe they aren't all fighters and survivors like the Guardians and people back home. Some do have that air to them. The weapons are in particular a dead giveaway. He'd seen enough of the armory to guess that the ones the man beside him carried had come along with him, much like the ones that Banshee himself had, even if finding the Lament had been strange indeed.

He nods his spiked head at Alex's equipment. "Seems like familiar territory for you."
cryptoherpetology: (002)

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-15 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
As much as Alex can't relate to not getting out much, he can relate to not wanting to get out much. He's always preferred research to field work. He's never done well in solitude— not that he's ever gotten much chance to experience it, between his family and the Aeslin mice— but he's always been most comfortable at home, with his books and what pieces of the outside he's decided to bring in with him.

"Yeah, my family had me learn to fire a gun when I was pretty young. I've had to use one more often than I'd like," he says, confirming Banshee's suspicion regarding the guns and knives he's strapped to himself. He carries them with a comfortable but careful ease. His right hand isn't on the holster for the handgun near his hip, but it never strays too far from it, either. They did say the rats were burrowers in the briefing, and he's seen enough of the Tremors film franchise to know better than to let his guard down on soft ground.
fortyforged: (wait a minute)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-15 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Family, huh..." There's no reason that the word should stir up any thoughts now. Exos left their past lives when they'd surrendered flesh and blood to wires and metal, and after forty-three reboots, attempting to remember anything of the past is a wasted effort when he can hardly remember peoples' these days.

Still, it stirs up something in him, much like the strange visions that had only recently started to come to mind. They're somehow connected to the massive blade on his back, that much he feels certain of.

"Fightin' to survive. It's unfortunate to have to learn young, but guess you can't help when things are out of your control." The early days of the City had been like that, probably. People out in the wilderness making way for a safe haven once the walls of the Last City on Earth had been placed. Even now, you didn't venture out unless you were a Guardian or someone trained to protect themselves. "Too many things back home that want us dead," Banshee notes. "Seems this place isn't much different."
cryptoherpetology: (033)

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-15 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
He nods in agreement again- he'd been lucky in only having to learn young, able to keep his practical experience limited to frequent trips to the gun range for years. His family had pretty strict rules about letting anyone do any real field work before they were ideally out of their teens.

"Sounds like we've got that in common, then. Admittedly I do get to go a little while longer between things trying to eat me than I'm going to get to here." And he feeds a habitat full of alligators at least twice a week.
fortyforged: (hm)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-15 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
If it had just been feisty wildlife they had to worry about back home, Banshee thinks it wouldn't have been all that bad. Things get complicated pretty quick when you throw in alien species that just outright hate humanity's guts for some reason or another.

Banshee chuckles dryly. "Sounds like an exciting time either way. What is it you do back home?" he asks. At least it's nice to know he's in capable, experienced company, but then they wouldn't have volunteered if they didn't think they'd be useful to some capacity.
cryptoherpetology: (056)

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-15 05:33 am (UTC)(link)
"Probably too much," he answers wryly at first, but then elaborates- "I work a dayjob at the Columbus Zoo, but there are people and animals in my world that are rare enough that most people don't know they exist- which is usually on purpose, since there are also a bunch of people who want to wipe them out. I help make sure that doesn't happen. My family's been doing that for generations— helping cryptids as we call them, keep themselves safe from the people who call them monsters and hunt them when they can find them."
He's gotten better over the last few days at describing his family's work to people from worlds that sound a lot different than his. That, he thinks, is probably the most succinct.

"What's your home like? I'm assuming more technologically advanced than mine." He adjusts his glasses again, this time a little more purposefully- the fact that people still use glasses where he comes from must seem quaint to some of the people here, and a medical miracle to others.
fortyforged: (memory slipped)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-15 06:02 am (UTC)(link)
The metal face for its obvious limitations still manages to convey some emotion in the slightest shifts of plates, the position of his jaw, the narrowing or widening of his optics. The most common expression Banshee tends to wear seems a contemplative one as he soaks in the description of his traveling companion's task.

It would make plenty of sense for him to have no idea what a zoo is, and yet he can scrape up the idea of it, a term he must have been familiar with from somewhere. Golden Age, maybe older. He can't say where. One might think things like this would bother a person, but Banshee's come to accept it. Sometimes it's frustrating, but he knows his mind's not in prime condition, not with as many reboots as his number states- a number he often forgets as well, although he knows it's well over the recommended reboot total.

"Sounds like interesting work," he offers. He's no expert in animals, but he admire those who would go out of their way to care for them. Humanity can often be insatiable for things and need some kind of control. Something to that thought chills him, though he can't say why.

"Hm? Oh. Maybe. Lotta tech was lost a long time ago, but we made a lot of progress, rebuilt. Worked things out. 's how things go," he murmurs. "Used to be we had cities everywhere, I heard. Now it's just the one. Lost all our places out on other planets, either to ruin or enemy forces. Only got one home. Almost lost it too, not too long ago, but we fought hard to get it back."
cryptoherpetology: (003)

[personal profile] cryptoherpetology 2021-05-15 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
"That- does sound quite different, yes," he says, trying not to look stunned as he considers the scale not only of life loss, but civilizational change that kind of restructuring would bring on.

But then, his world had once had whole species of people wiped not only to extinction, but to becoming mere myths as far as most people knew, so maybe he doesn't have quite so much to be awed about in terms of loss of life. "We have thousands of cities and billions of people living in and around them," he adds for context.
fortyforged: (wait a minute)

[personal profile] fortyforged 2021-05-15 06:41 am (UTC)(link)
The Dark Ages were nothing to laugh about. Unfortunately the Exo's not the one to ask about for stories. He remembers bits here and there, names, especially if they're associated with weapons. It's a wonder just how many weapons from the Golden Age had survived.

"Sounds nice. Think that's how it was, way back. Golden Age, Pre-Golden Age. People were just mindin' their own business on Earth." He shakes his head. Maybe he sounds a bit detached, but at the same time there's a wistfulness. It's really all he can muster. Even those Exos without as many reboots as his own had been advised not to hold on to whatever they'd been and known. Complications or something. At the back of his mind he doubts that, but what does he know anyway? Easier to focus on the now, on holding up his end of the alloy sheet that makes up their cover from the hissing rain, on where he puts his boots next.